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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156812">0702-A-STRO: The Unrecorded Chronicles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OodoriSummer/pseuds/OodoriSummer'>OodoriSummer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Super Teens [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Curses, Demons, Flashbacks, Government Experimentation, Human Experimentation, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Prologue, Unethical Experimentation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:07:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OodoriSummer/pseuds/OodoriSummer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aria gets taken away from those she loves and they don't see her again for another three years. Where she ends up, they don't know. </p><p>So here's what she knows.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Super Teens [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. This Is What I Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I remember the first time I woke up here, and believe me when I say that’s surprising because I can hardly recall anything from the past three years. The last thing I remember before waking up was pain: in my body, in my bones, in my heart, pain pervaded like it made a home in me. What followed was anger, going from a simmer to an overbearing boil just reaching to break free in havoc before my memory cuts off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I woke up in a room and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The floor was cold, and I could feel a chill biting away at every part of me because I was stark naked - I didn’t even have a blanket for decency. The frosty chills made me shiver and got me to wonder just what the hell I was doing there. I couldn’t see anything, and I was so sore all over. I couldn’t even think of moving, just lifting my arm struck pain through my body; I was quite literally frozen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The floor was soft, even with the darkness I could tell you that. It was the small dips, the unevenness, and how it only </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuck to your skin that told me it wasn’t carpet but that it was a strangely soft floor. It turned out to be a padded floor, to keep me safe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>apparently</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I was lying on my side. It was a comfortable position, honestly... if you ignore the cold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then the rest of my senses kicked in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Copper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> strong copper. Dried all over my lips and my hands. The taste coated my tongue like a snow in that gets school cancelled. In my feeble position I tried to spit it out, but there was only more. It stained my teeth, it tickled the back of my throat, and every time I swallowed  for the next few days it’s all I could taste. It was fucking disgusting. My heart got such a rude awakening from that - you don’t want to wake up and taste blood, trust me. I didn't even know why there was so much blood on me; it could’ve been anything else but somehow I knew it was blood, and it knocked the wind out of my chest just thinking about it. I’d never do anything to stain my hands, would I? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s what I thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How I managed to keep lying there on the floor, panicking, I’ll never know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was silent. There wasn’t any ringing, but it wasn’t dead silent as if I’d gone deaf. I don’t know how else to describe it but there really wasn’t any point in straining my ears, I already had enough things to worry about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where am I? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did I wake up here? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What happened?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where is everyone?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is there anyone?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five, maybe ten minutes passed before I started to feel something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s because I was naked, maybe it’s because it was cold, but I got the awful feeling that I was being watched. I couldn’t tell how big the room was but I could definitely tell you that I was alone, and yet somehow, someone was watching me. An uncomfortable sensation bore into my chest, down to my stomach and down to my legs. It’s almost like it was feasting on me, savouring the sight of me being weak, bloody, and terrified. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was more than one person, and whoever they were, they enjoyed what they saw. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I’m The Monster You’ve Been Reading About</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three years after Max's story, Aria finally makes an introduction.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Have you ever been convicted for a crime you don’t recall?</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div class="c0"><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">That’s what the last three years of my life have been like, where every waking second is the punishment and every unconscious moment is the crime. It’s a continuous, exhausting cycle of sin and sentence. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">My crime is my being.</span> <span class="c2"> I lose control of myself and become an abomination - something integral, something I was cursed to be born with, something I’m merely punished for being. For some reason, even in a world where half of the population has superpowers, you can be seen as a monster.</span>  <span class="c2">I become a curse passed down from my father, from his father, from his mother, and so on. I don’t know how long it’s infested my bloodline but they won’t tell me anything else. Whatever it is, I lose myself when I become that </span> <span class="c2 c6">thing</span> <span class="c1">. I forget the sins I commit but they make sure to remind me every time I come back in my bloodied, beaten and burned body. </span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c2">I was to become a prophet. A new, never before seen force for supers and non-supers alike to worship, a divine idol that would no longer stand as a theory, but a reality.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">It started with a project that would finally awaken our second power. Long, treacherous years of hard work went into this project to unlock the potential of the next generation, and I was to be a part of it, of a new world. Years of sitting at the fountain with my friends and wondering what was waiting inside of us, begging the professors and scientists to tell us what was in our genes just so we could have an idea, waking up at the ungodly early hours of the morning to train and tune my body for its new power.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">They gave me the headset, they gave me the rundown. They told me what to do if I was defeated in the game, but I didn’t listen because I </span> <span class="c2 c6">knew</span> <span class="c1"> I was going to win. How could I when I have prepared for this moment for so many years alongside my fellow classmates? The professors would never say, but I knew I was amongst the elite students in both body and mind.</span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">I was going to win and beat </span> <span class="c2">her </span> <span class="c1">and show her just who the powerful one was. I was going to finally prove just who in the family will prevail as superior, as the almighty Strongflo child.</span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">Oh, how wrong I was. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">I was so wrong. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">She knew. </span> <span class="c2 c6">Somehow</span> <span class="c2"> she knew about my second power already: that it was going to overshadow my other possible abilities, that it would take advantage of my short temperament and set me loose like a ravished animal gone mad. She knew that before any of the scientists could, so they couldn’t prevent it from awakening in me. She knew that before anybody so that she could awaken it herself. To beat me up into near unconsciousness; it was the bloodiest fight I’d ever had with her. To yell and scream at me and tell me how pathetic I was for thinking I could actually overpower her. To tire me out, to make me feel weak and to feel hopeless, to </span> <span class="c2 c6">anger</span> <span class="c1"> me. </span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">All of that, all of that preparation, training and mental strain, all of that was done just to be imprisoned here. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">I’m an abomination. A demon. A fun little test subject for them to torture.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">You know, I don’t even remember half of the things that happened here. I found out today that I’ve been here for three years. </span> <span class="c2 c6">Three years</span> <span class="c2">. If you asked me, I would’ve said it’s only been one. Time is a blur where the sun doesn’t shine - there are no fucking windows or actual clocks to tell me if it’s even night or day. They tell me that I will sleep for days at a time after some experiments. They also tell me I would be awake for days. When you’re a guinea pig that’s forced to </span> <span class="c2">go back and forth</span>  <span class="c2">between a padded room and countless trials to see </span> <span class="c2 c6">just</span> <span class="c2"> what makes you go mad,</span> <span class="c1"> you stop keeping track of the time that’s passed. </span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">I remember pain.</span> <span class="c2"> I</span> <span class="c1"> would wake up back on that padded floor just like the first time, except the blood is my own and the pain is even worse. The wounds would either be fresh or crusted on my skin, searing me if I dared to touch them on the filthy floor. My flesh is burned black from the holy water or whatever angelic energy they blasted on me. My wrists and ankles never fully heal from the many times they tied me down to the angel-charmed belts. How can my skin be so raw but so black?</span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">I remember waking up, but only sometimes. I would already be crying with streams down my cheeks. Crying only makes it hurt even more but I can’t stop - they enjoy my endless cycle of suffering. The tears will exhaust me and put me to sleep again, only to be awakened by more, or by a scientist dragging me out the door for another experiment. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">I remember my sore throat</span> <span class="c2">. It burns like a sickening fire that won’t go out. I am never conscious to know what I do to make it so but I can take a good bloody guess. I can tell you that there was </span> <span class="c2 c6">one</span> <span class="c1"> time where I recall screaming into oblivion, but I will save that for later. </span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">The pain is so unbearable. Whenever I wake up in that room again and cry, I just beg for my heart to let me go and let the sky take me into its arms once more. I want to be in the sky again, to fly and to feel the wind on my face. Let the wind kiss me, welcome me home, and tell me where I belong.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">But they won’t allow it. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">My first superpower is flight, if you haven’t already gotten that. My second goes by many names: devil’s heart, devil’s slave, sinful heart, the curse. I just like to call it my ‘demon curse’. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">As I said, they won’t tell me much about it. I guess the idea of knowing too much about my family history scares them. Since I’m here already, I might as well enlighten you with what I know. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">It’s been in my Father’s family for many generations, and apparently it will </span> <span class="c2 c6">always</span> <span class="c1"> appear in a Strongflo that has bronze eyes. The curse is very powerful, almost like a dominant gene, so it’s certain that it’s appeared in every generation of Strongflos since its origin. There’s been cases of ‘rampant’ demons with such coloured eyes throughout history, and although we can’t confirm if these were my ancestors, we can only assume that they were. </span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">Although I call it a ‘curse’, it’s really just a superpower that has grown and changed over the many years it’s walked on this earth. Abilities will change slightly over time to adapt to the world; I studied a bit of superology back in the academy, so this is plausible. The only difference with this superpower to every other one is that it’s unique, there is no other like it. It’s so intricate, so evolved; according to the superpower database code, it’s not related to any demon powers at all. Neither is it common for a power to appear in every single generation, let alone as a second super power.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">Heh, those stupid scientists wasted their money on that project for nothing. Strongflos been having second powers since the dawn of this damned curse.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">It’s triggered by a range of things. It takes time to grow and mature in a Strongflo, that’s why it finally came out when I was 17. The curse relied on anger to develop, but the more it feasted on my anger the more it began to use my other negative emotions. It will keep growing, and growing, and in the moment where you think your world might as well fall itself upon you and take you, it awakens. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">After that, it doesn’t take much to trigger it. Make me angry enough, feel weak enough, torture me enough, and they can bring it out. Overtime, it takes more and more to do so, and it makes it even harder to calm me down. I’ve completely severed my heart from my feelings, hoping it would stop, so now they use drugs and even more goddamn torturing to do it. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">I guess this curse explains why my Dad’s family has anger issues - that’s what my Mum suspected, at least, she doesn’t know anything besides the surface of it all. She grew up alongside my Dad, meanwhile, I hardly know any of my Dad’s relatives. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">Speaking of my Dad… I guess this explains everything, actually. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">He was hardly around when I grew up. My parents weren’t separated, my Dad was just always at work. At first, they told me he was in the military, using his gravitational manipulation to fight all that is evil in the world and make it even better. Whenever he was home he was tired. Sweaters and jeans covered his body, but when he showed his scars I marvelled at how much of a brave hero my Dad was. Receiving those scars in the field in a ferocious fight sounded like the coolest thing to a six year old.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">I was wrong about that too. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4"><span class="c2">He was a military </span> <span class="c2 c6">weapon</span> <span class="c2">. They put him through the same process as me: experimenting me, torturing me, training me to respond to certain stimuli so I could turn into that fucking </span> <span class="c2 c6">thing</span> <span class="c2"> and kill everything I see in sight. He wasn’t fighting the evil - he </span> <span class="c2 c6">was</span> <span class="c1"> the evil. The scientists could probably get off at how ‘amazing’ my Dad is for being such a good little demon for them. </span></p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c2">They know his power, and they were so excited to see it manifest in his only daughter. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">Three years I’ve been stuck here. Three years after waking up in this hell hole they throw me into a new room and say, “0702-A-STRO, after three years, you have finally been granted a week-long visit to your family and friends.”</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">I’m finally being let out. I’m actually getting out of here.</span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">You’re still here, so I might as well tell you everything else. I can tell you what else I recall, but you know by now that it’s not much. Either way, sit back and enjoy what you can. </span>
    </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c3"> </p><p class="c4">
      <span class="c1">I’m Aria Strongflo, I’m the monster you’ve been reading about.</span>
    </p></div></div>
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